Good Times
by TheAmethystRiddle
Summary: They've had some pretty good times. House/Wilson - officially more than friendship. Complete!
1. Come Back Down

**In which House stands on the roof, home is defined, crappy television is watched, an arm is broken, Wilson disbelieves, a special song is written, a gift is given, kissing doesn't make it better, and two are content.**

**I heard something somewhere about an iPod challenge thing, where you put your iPod (or other MP3 player) on shuffle and you write a short fic for each of the names of the first ten songs that come on. It sounded like fun, so here's my first go.**

**Note: House does not belong to me. It belongs to Fox and David Shore. When they're offering to sell it, though, I'll be the first in line.**

* * *

**1. "Come Back Down" by Lifehouse**

"Oh my God! Dr. Wilson! You've got to come quickly!"

Wilson looked up at the frantic nurse standing in his doorway.

"What's going on?" he asked, halfway standing up. "What's happened?"

"It's- it's Dr. House! He- he's- come on!"

Wilson ran after the nurse as she rushed through the halls of Princeton-Plainsboro, up the stairs and onto the roof. A crowd of hospital personnel was gathered there, facing the far corner of the roof, with Cuddy at the head and the ducklings huddled behind her. Standing on the edge with a desperate expression on his face was House, waving his cane erratically at whoever moved.

Wilson pushed his way to the front as fear washed over him. "House! Get down from there!"

House swung around, swaying on his one good leg. Wilson flinched. House was only a few inches away from falling to his death.

"Leave me alone! I'm fine! I'll do whatever I want!" House yelled, balancing on one leg and waving his cane threateningly. "Maybe I'll come down and maybe I won't!"

"House!" Wilson said again, this time much more quietly. House stilled, staring at his friend intently. "What do you think you're doing?" he asked. "What are you trying to do?"

House continued to stare at Wilson, then said, "Make them go away. Maybe I'll talk to you."

Wilson nodded, then turned and made a shooing motion at the collected staff. Slowly they trickled away, until only Wilson, Cuddy, Foreman, Chase, and Cameron were left.

House glared at the ducklings for a moment, then said, "I don't suppose you guys are planning on leaving any time soon?" When they shook their heads, he sighed.

"House, will you please come down now?" Wilson asked. To his surprise, he could hear a tremor in his voice. House must have heard it, too, because he looked up, startled. The two made eye contact, and something passed between them. House climbed down, falling the last few inches as his bad leg gave out. Wilson caught him as he fell, pulling him into a hug.

"I'm glad you came back down." he said.


	2. City Love

**Here's the next bit. I'm leaving you hanging from the first part, so use your imagination until I find an excuse to keep going with it. Um, and I don't actually know if Wilson even eats at T.G.I. Friday's.**

* * *

****

2. "City Love" by John Mayer

"I love this city." Wilson remarked, as they (House and himself- who else would it be?) sat looking at the many twinkling lights from the rooftop of the hospital.

"Any particular reason?"

Wilson was silent for a minute. "Just because it's home." he finally said.

House turned and leaned against the wall so that he was facing Wilson. "What makes a home?" he asked. Wilson was surprised to hear a genuine note in his voice, a search for a real answer.

"Friends." he said slowly. "Sometimes family. The things you love. The place you work. Your favorite restaurant."

"What about the person you love?" House spoke quietly, hesitantly. Wilson looked up, and was surprised to find the striking blue eyes, shining in the nighttime, staring into his own. Wilson smiled.

"That, too."

"So what makes this home?"

"My patients. Law and Order reruns. My office. The T.G.I. Friday's down the street from my hotel." He looked away, out over the city, and was silent. Then he looked back at his friend. "You." House smirked back at him, and Wilson knew it was the closest he would get to a smile. "Is this your home?" he asked.

"Yeah. Sure. It's got my Vicodin, my apartment, my piano. It's got my idiotic ducklings. Cuddy's cleavage." He stopped and watched Wilson, stretching the silence. When Wilson refused to give in, he added, "You."

They stood without talking for a time again, the sound of cars and people on the streets below them filling the silence.

"I used to come up here with Stacy." House said suddenly, whispering. "We used to do just this, only there was a lot more making out involved."

Wilson laughed. "Are you comparing me to Stacy?" he asked.

"No. Trust me, you're not Stacy."

Wilson looked up, but House was no longer looking at him. He wasn't sure what House meant, but knew better than to ask.

"I mean you're- you wouldn't do what she did." House said quietly, reading Wilson's thoughts.

"Wouldn't I?"

House seemed a little startled by Wilson's answer, then said, "I think I could forgive you if you did."


	3. Into the Night

**Okay. This one was fun, but I think just a little OOC for both of them. But only a little.**

* * *

**3. Into the Night by Santana**

"So I think I've figured out why you're so mleh all the time."

House looked up, then over at his friend, who was sitting on the couch. "'Mleh'? That's not a word."

"What? Yes it is!"

"No, it's not. It's more like a sound effect. Besides, I think I'm more rawr."

"Hm. Maybe you're right. But the reason you're so rawr all the time is because you stay up all night watching late night TV."

"And it's really crappy TV, too. Wait- no I don't!"

"Yes, you do, House."

"No, I don't!"

"Whatever you say…"

There was silence until House gave in. "Okay, fine, but what's your point?"

"Can I stay up all night and watch crappy TV with you?"

House laughed mockingly. "What about your wondrous reputation? Wonder Boy's just not Wonder Boy without his sleep."

"And Caustic Guy's just not Caustic Guy without his Wonder Boy."

"Fine." House grumbled, doing his best to look annoyed. "But I get the remote."

"Not if I get there first!"

"Oh, very funny. I can't run, you know!"


	4. Bones

**Again, a little OOC, but only on House's part. And only once. This is a contiuation of Come Back Down.**

* * *

****

4. Bones by The Killers

Wilson was an oncologist. He had to do surgeries on a weekly basis, and he prided himself on his experienced, steady hands.

So how could he have dropped something so important?

He held House's arm gingerly as the two of them limped slowly down the steps from the roof. When House had fallen, right into Wilson's arms, Wilson had underestimated how heavy his best friend was. The two of them, already unsteady because of House's leg, had toppled violently subsequent to the sentimental landing. And now Wilson felt horrible.

"Are you all-"

"Yes, I'm fine, Dr. worry-makes-me-deaf-and-so-I-ask-the-same-question-forty-times. I've had worse injuries."

"Okay…"

Of course Wilson didn't believe him. When was House ever fine?

A stretcher was waiting at the bottom of the stairs.

"My God! I fell six feet! What idiot told you I fell off the roof? Even if I'm a cripple, I can still walk!"

"I think it would make most of us feel better if you got on the gurney, House." Cuddy said, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"Well I'm not worried about making most of you feel better!" House's eyes flicked unconsciously to Wilson, who was too busy drowning in self-loathing to notice. Cuddy, on the other hand, saw it all too well.

"I think," she murmured, "that Wilson might worry less if you didn't have to transport yourself down three floors and through seven corridors." She raised her eyebrows questioningly, but she knew she had won.

"Fine" House said, not crossing his arms because one was broken, but managing to look defiant all the same. "Here, Jimbo, if I'm gonna get on this thing I need your help. I mean, hello, I have a handicap!"

Wilson helped House onto the stretcher carefully, doing his best not to jostle House's arm. House refused to lie down, insisting he'd "always wanted to ride one of these things sitting up."

As they started to wheel House away, he reached out and grabbed Wilson with his good hand.

"Hey," he said, literally shaking Wilson out of his reverie. "Don't worry, man. Bones always heal, and so do friendships." Then he grinned sarcastically. "Can you believe the corny crap that's coming out of my mouth?" He laughed and ruffled Wilson's hair affectionately.

"Yes, I can." Wilson whispered, as the gurney was pushed away.


	5. Shot

**Heheh. I like this one. Dialogue-only. It seems a bit... odd at the beginning, but all becomes clear. I think it's funny, if maybe improbable.**

* * *

****

5. Shot by The Rasmus

"You're not serious."

"Yes, I am. Shut up and do it already."

"You can't be serious."

"I already said I was, didn't I? Just do it."

"Honestly?"

"Yes. Honestly. I swear. Shut your damn mouth and give it to me already."

"I think I should draw this out a little."

"No, just do it. Now."

"I still can't believe it. It makes no sense."

"It hurts."

"What's the difference between this and jacking yourself full of drugs?"

"I don't know, it's just different."

"Do you want me to do it now?"

"Yes. Now. Just hurry up."

"Should I, I don't know, count down, so you know what to expect?"

"No. Just do it out of nowhere. Right now."

"But that's not out of nowhere, you're expecting it."

"I don't care, just- aahhhh! Damn!"

"There you go."

"Ah! Dammit, Wilson!"

"I still can't believe you're afraid of shots."


	6. Love Song for No One

**6. Love Song For No One by John Mayer**

House sat at his piano, playing half a melody that was stuck in his head. He couldn't quite figure out what to do for the ending, so he played the same notes over and over. He kept hoping that the inspiration would come, but it didn't.

Wilson knocked on his door at about ten, bearing Chinese food and a TV schedule.

"Not interested." House said tightly.

"Why not?" Wilson asked, his mouth full of rice. "You never turn down Chinese."

"Well, I just did, so shut up so I can finish this."

Wilson shrugged and threw himself onto the couch, deciding it would be best not to turn on the television.

"When are you going to be done?" he asked after a few minutes.

"When you shut up and let me get around to it."

Wilson sat as quietly as possible while he finished his food. When he was done eating, he tapped quietly on the edge of the paper food carton.

"Can I have your food?" he asked finally.

"No!"

"So you're not turning it down, you're just putting it off. D'you want me to put it in the fridge or something?"

"If it'll make you shut up."

House watched Wilson as he went to the fridge to put the food inside. Absently, he watched the way Wilson moved, the way he walked, the rhythm in the way he swung the bag of food as he stepped. House's foot began to tap of its own accord, and years of experience told him to stop and listen to it. Slowly, the rest of the melody formed in his mind, and he rushed to write it down before he forgot it. Silently he thanked Wilson for the inspiration, but he had already decided to claim it as all his doing out loud.

In a flurry of notes, House began to play, and Wilson came out of the kitchen to watch and listen. The song was a sweet, sad lament, but also a joyful celebration. House added a couple extra flourishes for Wilson's benefit, and at the end, Wilson applauded loudly.

"Very nice, very nice. Should I heat up your Chinese food, then?"

"Sure, why not."

As Wilson moved around in the kitchen, microwaving the food and getting some chopsticks, he asked, "So what was that?"

House shrugged, giving Wilson a significant look that the other man completely missed, as his back was turned. "A love song for no one."


	7. The Black Pearl

**Sorry about not having it before, guys. But it came together quite nicely! Enjoy.**

**

* * *

**

**7. The Black Pearl by Klaus Badelt**

House sat at his desk in his ill-lit office, playing with a black ball on his desk. He rolled it nervously with his fingers, spinning it and then stopping it suddenly. He seemed almost to be waiting for someone.

"So I was in the middle of a surgery, right?" Wilson walked in with no more greeting than the beginning of his sentence. "I mean, the middle of a freaking surgery, and- what is that?"

House quickly covered the object with his hand and put his hand under the desk. "Nothin'," he said quickly- too quickly.

"Yeah, sure." Wilson rolled his eyes. "Look, that was either the biggest hunk of heroin I've ever seen, or the cheapest crystal ball in New Jersey, but that was not nothing. Hand it over."

House gave him a blank look. "I dunno what you're talking about," he said flatly.

"Yeah, yeah you do. I want to see it, right now."

"What, don't you trust me?" House pouted.

"No, actually." Wilson made a "hand it over" motion with his fingers.

"That's too bad." House opened his desk and dropped it in with a thump, watching Wilson with an expressionless gaze the whole time.

"House!" Wilson said, his voice hard and sharp. The edge of a knife.

"Really. It's nothing." House was dead serious, his eyes unwavering. There was nothing he wanted to keep to himself more at that moment.

Wilson walked over deliberately, putting his hands on his hips with a frown. So characteristically _him_ that House found himself gasping ever so quietly for air. Air smothered by the insane amount of _Wilson_ hanging around them. Without even thinking he was leaning down to open the drawer, taking it out and handing to him. Just the way he had planned, for once.

"A pearl?" Wilson asked, incredulous. "A black pearl? Seriously?"

"It was- a gift. For someone. But whatever." House turned back to his desk. "You can have it. I don't want it."

"But you said it was a gift." Wilson held it out to him. Not the way he'd planned, like always.

"No. No. I mean it is. It's- just take it. I'm giving it to you. Okay?" House turned to his computer, moved to jiggle the mouse and then remembered what window he had open. Dammit. He turned back to his desk and rifled through his backpack, looking for an excuse to ignore the other man. Wilson did not move throughout this whole charade.

House finally found his PSP, turning it on and turning the volume up to max. Wilson was not there, Wilson was not there. Maybe he could convince himself.

He didn't see or hear but instead felt as Wilson bent down and pressed his lips to the top of House's head. "Thank you," he whispered. "It's a beautiful gift."

When he left it was silent, the game turned off and stowed away once again. House was silent, too, for once, not thinking but simply breathing, slowly, in and out, in and out. He could still feel Wilson's lips pressed to his head, could hear his words once again. _Thank you. It's a beautiful gift._ Yes. It was a beautiful gift.

House smiled.


	8. You've Got a Friend

**Oh, hey, guys... it's officially flat-out Hilson now. Just in case it wasn't coming on strong enough before. I can't seem to take these two seriously, not when they're... serious. Anyway, enough about me. That's not what you came here for, is it?**

* * *

**8. You've Got A Friend by James Taylor**

"How are you doing?" Wilson asked House worriedly.

"You know, everybody's asked me that as soon as they walk in, and I always tell them I'm fine. But since you're my best friend, I'll be straight with you: I'm fine."

"Okay, House, very charming, but some of us are actually concerned here."

"Yeah, one of us. Oh, wait, that would be- you! Just like always!" House said in mock surprise.

Wilson gave him a fed up look.

"Oh, fine, but I won't say I'm sorry. Someone has to keep you from suffocating in all that seriousness, and I seem to be the only person who's up to the job." House stuck his tongue out at his friend.

"You're not up to much of anything right now." Wilson observed.

"Yes, thank you, _Mother_." House replied sarcastically.

There was silence for a moment while House inspected his cast casually and Wilson looked tired.

"It hurts," House said quietly.

"I can't give you any more medication, you know that. What do you want me to do, kiss it and make it better?"

"Yes, please," House replied meekly, holding out his arm. Wilson looked shocked, but when House remained serious, he took his friend's arm and pressed it to his lips hesitantly, as if afraid someone would jump out and laugh at him.

"It won't actually make it better," Wilson said apologetically.

"I know."

There was silence again, and both of them looked a little awkward. Wilson put House's arm down quickly and House stared at it forlornly. Finally House spoke up.

"My lip hurts, right there," he said, pointing. "I think I split it."

"I can get you some water, if you want it."

"Can you kiss it and make it better?"

Wilson looked, if possible, even more shocked than before. "I- I guess."

He leaned forward, and House held up a (healthy) hand. "You don't have to if you don't want to," he whispered.

"No," Wilson said quietly, moving House's hand, "I want to." He leaned forward carefully, and House met him halfway. Wilson licked House's lip experimentally, and House responded by opening his mouth willingly. Wilson could taste House, could taste his lips and his tongue and his blood, so at least he hadn't been lying about the split lip.

Wilson broke away softly and looked at House. "Is it better now?" he asked.

"No," House pouted.

Wilson grinned. "Just checking." And he leaned back in and kissed House again, for longer this time.

They broke apart again after a minute of intense mouth-to-mouth action.

"I thought you were gonna be straight with me?" Wilson asked jokingly.

House looked confused for a moment, and then his face cleared and he laughed. "That's funny- because it's _straight_- and we're- oh, you're good."

"You have no idea." Wilson grinned, and the devilish look in his eyes made House grin back.

"I'm hoping to find out," he said.

"You won't be disappointed."

Suddenly, in a fit of distractedness as yet unseen by this world, House turned and grabbed a Sharpie off the side table.

"Sign my cast," he commanded.

Wilson rolled his eyes, but he took the marker anyway.

"What do you want me to do, profess undying love?" he asked as he uncapped the Sharpie, just realizing that it was bright red.

"Something like that. Only make it more subtle, so we don't start a gossip war."

Wilson shrugged and did as he was told. Halfway through the action of recapping the marker, he stopped. "You know, we could totally rule at the betting tables with this."

House's mouth dropped open. "You're right! I hadn't thought of that! See, I knew you were good for something!" He pulled Wilson into another kiss. "What would I do without a friend like you?"

"Cut yourself. Overdose. Probably sleep with Cuddy. Hate everyone."

"That was a rhetorical question, but okay. Wait, what was that bit about sleeping with Cuddy?"

"I'm glad I have a friend in you, House."

"Hey, hey, you know what I'd like to have in you? Turn around and I'll show you."


	9. Sail Away

**Yay! Ninth chapter! Only one more to go, though. I'm kind of trying to tie everything together here at the end. And for those of you that were reading back when I skipped it, chapter seven is up!**

**

* * *

**

**9. Sail Away by The Rasmus**

They never stood on the roof anymore, not the way they'd used to do. Now they stood in different places, today on a balcony that looked out over the sea. They both were reminded of another time they had stood together, looking out together and sharing their thoughts. There was silence now, but it was a good silence. A silence that meant they understood.

"It's a nice place," House said, looking over at his friend.

"A patient willed it to me." Wilson glanced at House and then back over the water. "It's just too big to come here alone."

"We are alone." House remarked, something hidden in his voice sending chills up Wilson's spine. The cast on House's arm matched the garish swim trunks he wore, and Wilson remembered the passionate kiss that they had shared in the glass-walled room in the hospital. And then nothing. They had said nothing, done nothing more, pushed each other no farther. They each knew more about the other than they would admit about themselves, and yet to get them even to hint at attraction they had to go to effing Mexico. Mexico.

"House, I'm sick of this." The words were out of his mouth before he had even a chance to think. House turned towards him, not understanding. "I'm sick of dancing around each other, of this on-again, off-again, he-loves-me, he-loves-me-not crap. Okay? I will never hurt you. I promise. House? I promise." The intensity in his voice and in his eyes were something he'd rarely felt before, something so real and raw and solid that both men were swept up in it. Wilson closed the gap between them quickly, taking House's arms in his own and holding him close- but not too close. "I will never do anything to hurt you, you know that, House. So why can't you love me? Why can't you just love me, just once?"

House's eyes were filled suddenly with tears, wicked tears that betrayed him gladly to his friend. "I love you," he said, and the words rang of bitter truth. Something he had never wanted to admit. "I love you," he repeated, and suddenly hugged Wilson as if the man was his only lifeline.

Wilson laughed from sheer joy, from relief, from satisfaction. "I love you, too," he said. "I love you. I love you and I'll always protect you."

They stood like that for a very long time, not needing anything but each other. When they slowly broke apart, it was with a feeling of still being in each other's arms. They turned together to look out over the great expanse of the ocean, their arms touching lightly.

"Have you ever wanted to sail away?" Wilson asked quietly, looking off into the distance. "Into the sky, into the sea, it doesn't matter. Just get away from it all and know that it can't get to you?"

Then silence as House formed an answer. They both smiled. "Yes. But not any more. I'm fine right here, for once."

"For once?"

"For always."


	10. Mexico

**Uhm. This is awkward. Here's the last chapter to a fic I started three years ago...**

* * *

**10. Mexico by James Taylor**

"Hey."

"Hey."

It had been almost two weeks since they had returned from their escape to Mexico. Despite what had been shared there- not just love, but passion- they still had not spoken of it to each other in the stark halls of the hospital or the gray-carpeted silence of home. They had not kissed, had not touched, had instead said nothing more than hello in the hallways and slept coldly on opposite sides of the bed.

"Hey."

"Hey."

It had been almost a month since they had returned from their escape to Mexico. They still had not spoken of it to each other, but they had reached the point where, preparing for bed, they would more often than not catch the burning desire in each other's eyes and end up wrapped around each other, one's belly pressed against the other's back, their sweat drying in the cold air drifting from an open window.

"Hey."

"Hey."

It had been two months to the day since they had returned from their escape to Mexico. House had just recently gotten his cast taken off, and he had been complaining loudly ever since about his sudden lack of a ready-made weapon. Wilson, who had been waiting as patiently as he could for the two months since they got back for House to say again that he loved him, had not been sleeping well and soon grew tired of House.

"Can you just shut up for one second?" he shouted finally as they sat in his office. He glared down at the file he was writing and gripped the pen fiercely to keep himself from trembling. He could see House's shocked expression in his peripheral vision but refused to make eye contact with the other man.

"What's the matter with you?" House asked, offended.

"What the hell happened to Mexico?" Wilson realized the words were coming out of his mouth before he could stop them.

"What?"

"What the hell happened to 'I love you'? What the hell?" Wilson blinked back tears and began scribbling furiously again, ignoring House pointedly. There was silence for a long time, and Wilson had made up his mind to tell House he hadn't meant what he said when House suddenly spoke up.

"But I do love you."

Wilson looked up sharply, tears he had not quite been able to suppress rolling quietly down his cheeks. House had a perplexed look on his face prompting Wilson to ask rather more sharply than he intended, "What?"

"Well, I thought you knew that," House said, flinching a little at Wilson's word. "I told you I loved you."

Wilson sighed, shuddering slightly. "House, people need to hear it more than once in an entire relationship."

House was silent for a moment, then said, "Well, I love you."

Wilson smiled with a little difficulty. "I love you, too."

They were silent again as Wilson went back to his work and House retreated into his own mind. But that night, as he lay wrapped in House's arms, he felt House wriggle closer and put his lips to Wilson's ear.

"I love you," he whispered, and Wilson's heart jumped.

"I love you, too," he whispered back.


End file.
